Quoted By:
Old. Alone. Probably buzzed. If anyone’s gonna be talkative here, it’ll be Grandpa Fuzzball! Adjusting your semi-warped <span class="mu-s">GREEN CONTACTS</span> as best you can, you steel yourself with a deep breath and stride over to the bar like you own the place!
“H-hello…!” Mutters the Mox mixologist–or ‘<span class="mu-i">Moxologist</span>’ as you call them in your head as you approach– “What can I… can I get you things? Like a drink?”
You don’t have to be a detective to deduce they’re itchin’ like a hound to serve anyone other than Durher Drinksalot, and as you approach the bar you can’t really blame them–whoever your new best friend is reeks to high-heaven… so much so that your eyes are already burning when you take the spot next to him!
Speaking of eyes, his are already picking you apart like a vulture as you order a Ruuppaa, but the old dog continues his statue impression long after your beverage is placed in front of you!
“There ya go!” Stammers the bartender with a big, toothy smile! “Not assigned to the concert either, huh?” Realizing they might have overstepped, the Mox’s eyes puff up larger than you thought possible as their mouth shuts tight faster than a catfish that just downed a bottle of vinegar! “E-er… I mean…”
N-no, you shrug, you’re uh… stuck here tonight! Haha! What can ya do…
“Then what the <span class="mu-i">HELLS</span> are you doing here, then?”
You and the bartender freeze up like a pair of deer in particularly boozy headlights as the owner of the grizzled voice slams his presumably empty glass onto the counter with a <span class="mu-s">SLAM</span> that silences the whole room!
Err, you mutter as heat wells up in your cheeks and a bead of sweat forms on your furrowed brow, w-what was that?
“You ‘eard me…” The Durher’s voice is deeper than you’d expect–weary and raspy like a farmworker’s fresh off the fields. One yellow eye stares you down like a hawk watching for prey–immobile and unblinking as it bores into your face. Sneaking a glance around the rec room, you try not to react when you notice all the eyes upon you. You haven’t been made–not yet, at least–your observers seem content to stare you down from afar. In place of anger or shock in their eyes, however, you can almost sense…
<span class="mu-i">Concern?</span>
You don’t get much thinking in–before you can really ponder things you feel a small, but rough claw slam onto your wrist!
“Speak.”
H-how do you respond?
>You’re mansion security!
>You have a meeting with Vhale!
>Gotta check up on the girls!
>Getting a drink, duh!
>Vehicle maintenance… for Rolo’s thing!
>You’re here to kill Vhale!
>Stay Silent! He’ll think you disappeared!
>GLASS HIM
>BIISII’S BAG
>Write-In!
